Chokehold
by UndergroundValentine
Summary: Twenty-five years since the destruction of District Thirteen, Adam Lambert of District One, Drake LaBry and Brad Bell of District Six find themselves in a tangled mess at a crossroads of love and survival in the ever horrific Hunger Games.
1. Living In Perfect Ruins

Hey everyone! UV here with a quick update regarding this fanfic. This is a joint collaborative between myself, HieiTheFallen (Amber) and Sinsrose (Courtney) of DeviantART. Just to clear some things, Amber writes each and every chapter in Drake's pov, Courtney writes for Brad's pov, and I write for Adam's pov. This fic may be a little slow going considering there are three of us (and I'm leaving for work in a few weeks, D: sorry), but I promise it will not disappoint! Also, I have taken on the responsibility of proofreading, so if you see any errors, feel free to point them out. Comments and critiques greatly appreciated. :)

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**Chapter One: Living In Perfect Ruins****  
****Drake's POV**

District Six.

That's where I was from. It really wasn't a wonderful place to live, but it was better off than a lot of the other districts. We specialized in transportation, so our way of life, from what I understood, was much better than districts ten, eleven and twelve. We weren't allowed to travel between districts unless we had very specific orders/permission from the Capitol and travelling between districts was extremely rare. Even the mayors of each district didn't generally travel.

Needless to say, transportation seemed almost pointless in the country of Panem. No one had anywhere to go. The only time someone was really permitted to leave their original district was if they were unlucky enough to be called as a tribute for the Hunger Games. I don't really want to get into how horrible the Hunger Games are. Thinking about it truly makes me sick and describing it… well, I have a hard time stomaching it all together.

Basically it had been twenty-five years since the war that started the Hunger Games. Back then; there were thirteen districts and the Capitol. The districts grew weary of having their freedom restricted by the Capitol. They felt that one city full of freaks shouldn't have the right to control their lives. We should be free to come and go as we please, free to partake in any career we choose, free to make as little or as much money as we possibly can instead of being born into classes. The Capitol wasn't flexible when it came to how they dealt with the districts and rebellion rose up.

Obviously we didn't win. In fact, we lost so badly that District Thirteen was completely wiped out. The Capitol blew it up just to make an example out of them. They wanted to show the rest of us what would happen if we tried to rebel again. In addition to the destruction of District Thirteen, Peacekeepers were doubled in the rest of the districts. Peacekeepers were, basically, Panem's form of law enforcement. They were more cruel and ruthless after the war and in my district; they wouldn't hesitate to publically beat a person for the most simple rule bending. Public whippings were practically a daily event.

Finally, the Capitol created the Hunger Games. They say a bunch of fancy bull shit to make it sound like the Hunger Games are a great honor and that we should celebrate them, but, really, the Hunger Games are nothing more than twenty-four kids taken from the districts and forced to fight to the death for the Capitol's entertainment. The true point is to make the districts realize how completely helpless they are. That they can take children and force them to slaughter one another while the rest of the world watches helplessly…

That's all I can really say about it. Like I said before, it's sick and vile. Every year I was terrified that I would be called as a tribute, or that Brad, my boyfriend, would be called. Every year we pulled through it, I felt guilty for being happy that some other kid was being shipped off to their death.

I suppose I'm getting ahead of myself. My name is Drake LaBry and I'm sixteen years old. I lived in District Six with my older brother, Sauli. We didn't have parents, not anymore. In fact, I don't even really remember them. Sauli and I were refugees from District Thirteen. Before the war, my family resided in Thirteen. Sauli's father was killed in the bombing; my mother was smuggled out while she was pregnant with Sauli. Okay, so we're only half brothers because we only share a mother, but Sauli could be completely unrelated to me and he would still be my brother.

My mother gave birth to Sauli in District Six. She was a very beautiful woman, from the pictures I'd seen of her and that was how she was allowed into Six. She gave herself to the mayor for pleasure but I would never think of her as a whore. She did what she had to do to care for her child because survivors of Thirteen were not permitted into any of the other twelve districts. The Capitol forbade it.

My mother, Roza, didn't live with the mayor; she only went to him when called upon. Technically speaking, the mayor is my father, but since his relationship with my mother was always kept secret, he wouldn't recognize Sauli or me. If it was known that I was his illegitimate son, his reputation would be ruined but I still hated him. He forced my mother to be his lover and he didn't even have the decency to treat her like a real human being. He wouldn't even claim his own child.

Shortly after I was born, my mother died of fever. I can't really be sure why no one tried to help her. Sauli said that the mayor did provide her with medical assistance but her fever was just too much to recover from right after giving birth. Sauli was eight when she died and he took her death very hard, but he was always there for me. We lived in an orphanage until Sauli was old enough to hold down a job. Then he took me in as his dependent. He never spoke about our mother. I knew it's just too painful for him, but even when I asked, he wouldn't give me any real information. He just made sure that I knew she was a wonderful woman who loved me very much even if my father was a bastard.

I didn't know her, but I loved her anyway. Sometimes I wondered if she got sick because of my birth. Sometimes I blamed myself for her death and I always thank her for giving me life.

Sauli worked long hours throughout the week at the train station, so I was alone all the time. I always told him I wanted to quit school and come to work with him but he wouldn't let me. He quit school so he could go to work for the both of us and he never wanted me to have to do that. I appreciated everything Sauli did for me, but since he was gone so much, I was lonely a lot. My loneliness was what drew me to Bradley Bell, my boyfriend. It wasn't really illegal to be a homosexual nowadays, but a lot of people looked down on it. I really didn't care what people thought because Brad made me happy. He cured my loneliness for the most part but I still wished my brother were around more often.

In a few weeks the first quarter quell would arrive. It was the twenty-fifth annual Hunger Games and the Capitol said they would be doing something special. I wasn't too interested in knowing what they would be doing. As long as Brad and I weren't called… Everything would be fine. I tried not to think about it, but since it was so close, my nerves were on edge again. It happened every year. My chances of being called weren't great. There were a lot of kids in my district, but there was still a chance that I would be shipped off and murdered in front of the whole world.

Brad was on edge too, but he was more concerned about comforting me. He was just a few months older than me, but he always wanted to make sure I was okay, that I was being taken care of. He really was a great boyfriend… I certainly didn't know how I was lucky enough to meet him. I definitely didn't deserve him.

"Baby?" Brad whispered into my ear, his hands coming up to cup my cheeks. "You spacing out again? Babe?" I didn't open my eyes until his lips pressed into mine, pulling a deep moan from within my throat. I wouldn't lie; Bradley and I were extremely intimate. We did a lot of things that teens our age probably shouldn't do, but we figured we'd better enjoy life because we never knew if we would be shipped off to the Capitol as tributes.

When his lips pulled away from mine, I looked up into his big, bright and expressive eyes. "Hey… Sorry, I didn't realize you were here. Yeah, I was spacing. Thinking about the Games, worrying about them, you know…"

"Drake, honey, you can't think like that. We're going to be okay. There are thousands of people in Six. We won't be picked," he said to reassure me. I knew he was just trying to comfort me, but I also knew that, secretly, he was just as afraid as I was. He was just trying to be all manly and tough for my sake so he could be my knight.

"I know, I know, it's just scary to think about it… I try not to but you know how I am. I don't think I can be blamed with how fucked up my life is." Compared to me, Brad had a relatively normal life. It wasn't a great life, but he had a father and a little sister. He wasn't secretly the mayor's son and grew up raised by his brother in an orphanage.

Soft, plump lips crashed over mine again and I moaned, lacing my fingers into the boy's luscious brown locks, pulling him closer. After school, Brad had to do some work in his father's shop. I went home to do some homework but ended up just sitting in our tiny yard, watching the clouds. Eventually I must have started spacing because I didn't even notice when Brad came up to me. It was also close to sundown.

I would have gone further with Brad, and by further I meant that we probably would have ended up naked, rolling around on the little bit of grass in front of my house, but Sauli came home from work with a loaf of bread and a bit of meat under his arm. He didn't have a problem with me dating Brad, in fact, he was happy that I had someone who made me so happy, but he didn't necessarily approve of our decisions to be so intimate with one another. We never really planned on telling him but he walked in on us once… That was not a fun night.

Sauli was supposed to be working a double, so Brad and I didn't bother to go into my tiny bedroom. Instead we fucked right in the middle of the shared living space. It was a few days after my sixteenth birthday. Brad gave me a ring from his family's shop and our kiss just… went too far. Sauli walked right in on Brad's back pressed into the wall with me straddling his hips, riding him slow and hard.

At first Sauli had been pretty angry, both at me and at Brad for "besmirching me". Eventually he came to terms with the fact that I was old enough to be experimenting with my own sexual desires and that Brad was the only person I wanted to be with. I never showed any interest in anyone else.

"Boys, we've been over this before. Take it inside," Sauli said, nudging Brad with his foot. Brad jumped up to his feet. Ever since Sauli saw Brad fucking me, he'd been kissing my brother's ass to get back on his good side. Sauli didn't like that we had sex, but he decided to just look past it.

"Stop being a kiss ass and help me up, Brad," I hissed at him. He smiled sheepishly at Sauli, who smirked a little and went inside to prepare dinner. Brad offered me his hand, which I took so he could pull me to my feet. "You don't need to suck up to him, you know. He doesn't like that we're intimate, but he respects me enough to make my own decisions and he likes you well enough. He knows you're good to me and that you make me happy."

"I know, baby, I do, it's just… I feel so bad for letting him see us like that. The look on his face… I mean, you're his baby brother and he always looks at you like you're a baby and when he saw us like that…" Brad rambled and I shushed him with a gentle kiss.

"I know, Brad, but I'm always going to be his baby, no matter what sexual things you and I do together. Now stop being so tense around him and relax. You're part of the family, now let's go eat," I whispered, kissing Brad gently. Truthfully I wasn't hungry, I was just horny. I wanted to take Brad to my bed and bend over the edge for him but that would have to wait. Sauli would want me to eat and there was a required program from the Capitol that every citizen of Panem needed to watch tonight. Any required programming usually meant that we would be watching something upsetting and/or sickening, but we didn't really have a choice. If we didn't watch, well, let's just say the last person caught not watching required programming no longer has the ability to walk.

After a brief kiss, Brad and I went inside and sat and the tiny table in the "kitchen" of my home. Sauli was making what smelled like chicken and I was rather excited. We didn't get chicken too often. "How was school today, boys?" Sauli asked, flipping each piece of chicken over to cook both sides.

"Boring," I answered immediately. We never seemed to learn anything useful and book learning wasn't really my favorite thing. I wasn't, by any means, a bad student, but most of the time I was doodling instead of paying attention. I managed decent marks, but I was definitely more of a creative soul. Brad was the same way but his marks weren't anywhere near mine. His were barely passing, but he just didn't care about Panem's curriculum.

"Did you draw anything interesting today, Drake?" Sauli asked, eyeing me from over his shoulder. He knew about my hobby. It was hard to miss; the house was full of my sketches and designs. Cheap crafted sketchbooks filled with drawings sat in stacks around the furniture. Most of the gifts I got were new sketchbooks. I was always happy to get them.

"Yeah, Sauli, I drew something for you," I said and reached into my bag, which sat on the table. I pulled out my newest sketchbook and the first drawing inside was a drawing of my big brother. I handed it over to him, watching as his eyes softened and a goofy grin spread across his face.

"Drake… This is beautiful," he said, covering his mouth with one hand. He looked like he could cry.

"You didn't really think I'd forget your birthday, did you?" I asked, standing to give him a hug. "Sit down, I'll finish dinner. You deserve a night off." Between the three of us, we'd turn the little TV set on for the required programming, but we probably weren't going to pay much attention to it.


	2. Pick It All Up And Start Again

**Chapter Two: Pick it up, pick it all up, and start again.****  
****Brad's POV**

To say I wanted the Capitol destroyed was an understatement. Panem wasn't a place I liked living in, but there was nothing I could do about living in it. The last District that tried to rebel against the Capitol was left in ruins; there were very few survivors of District Thirteen, my father being one of them. My mother died during childbirth, my father told me, when I was very young after my younger sister Lapsis was born.

She was beautiful, and she looked so much like my mom from what photos we had of her. Most of the photos of my mom were in black and white though, but even so she was ever so pretty. My sister hadn't even been born yet when we moved from Thirteen to Six as survivors. My father never talked about it, never mentioned that we were from there. Most people who fled from Thirteen don't. They fear facing exile.

My name is Brad Bell. I'm nearly nineteen years of age, and I've honestly lost count of the amount of times that I've prayed to God I don't end up in the Hunger Games like the other kids. I only had under a year left, because once I turned nineteen my name could no longer be drawn from the reaping bowl. But then I had my boyfriend to worry about with his name being drawn from the reaping. Usually the age limits are between twelve and eighteen, but I had seen kids that were younger sometimes. I think the Capitol did it on purpose as a threat towards rebelling people.

I sighed, pulling a piece of wheat bread off the table of our small apartment, leaving half the loaf for my little sister. She's nearly ten, I'm thankful her name can't be drawn for the Games yet. We weren't poor but we weren't exactly rich either. We had enough to live and feed ourselves, and, sometimes, I fed the LaBry family if we had spare food around. My father had always liked them, and loved the boys, and called them hard workers. My father, Seth, used to create candles back with my mother, Sarah, when she was alive. But that was back in District Thirteen.

My dad taught me the process of making candles, and in turn I figured out how to create scented ones. I started selling them, making a small profit from them when my father traveled from District to District with the business them. The Capitol really liked the candles, I found out real fast when my father came home with so much money from that trip. It was enough that we invited the LaBry's over for dinner that night. I munched on the bread, cringing a little at the taste. Money had been a little slow this month, we hadn't been able to afford real expensive stuff. I bought stuff for myself sometimes. I wasn't proud of it, but I stole a little money for myself when there was a surplus.

"Lapsis." I called out, my voice soft in the house. She came up to me with a few burns on her hands from making candles. We both have plenty of scars from burns.

"Hmm?" She tilted her head to the side, warm brown eyes looking back at my own.

"I'm going to Drake's for a little bit okay? Dad should be home in a few hours, bread is on the table for you." I told her, giving her a kiss on the forehead. I savored being with her because every year there was a chance I could be chosen for a reaping and not make it home ever again. I left my house, my feet trailing over grass with worn out flats. They were hand-me-down shoes from my father.

There was a pouch of money on my hip, spare money, that I'd kept for myself. I was still eating the stale bread when I arrived at the LaBry's. The LaBry family consisted of two people, my boyfriend, Drake, and his older brother Sauli. They had a small home, which was like a second home to me because I was around them so often; they were like extended family to me and Lapsis. Lapsis had even stayed for nights on occasion, giving them a few homemade candles now and then.

I ended up staying over Drake's home for the night after sharing dinner with them. Despite that it was Sauli's birthday, we went to bed early after watching the required program from the Capitol. Not that it came as a surprise or anything, but my mind was racing so much that I couldn't sleep. I was on edge considering the reaping was the next day. I absolutely hated the reaping. I could never sleep, even though I was in Drake's arms. I just couldn't stand the thought of getting my named called. I ended up getting around two hours of sleep being woken by Sauli in the morning, before being told to get ready and dress nicely for the reaping. I didn't even want to go; I felt sick to my stomach, like I had been when I came out to my father.

Drake glanced over at me, looking me in the eyes, almost concerned. "We won't get picked Brad. Don't worry baby, we won't." Drake said to me, kissing me on the forehead, trying to comfort me.

I swallowed the lump from my throat, still nervous anyway. The older you were, the more likely you were to be picked. My name had over eighteen slips in the reaping bowl. Sauli and Drake had even more because they had less money and signed up for tariffs to gain more money and grain, but that doubled or even tripled the amount of times your name could be called for the games. My name had only eighteen slips. There was not enough to cause problems.

I got up with Drake, giving him a small kiss before pulling on a white button down shirt that I had left here when I last slept over. I pulled on a pair of old worn dress pants, which were, somehow, also white. How I managed to find and pay for that color stumped me. Drake and Sauli had gone with blue for a color. It was simple yet fitting. I exhaled another breath. I knew outside the Peacekeepers were rounding up people to bring to the reaping. I joined Drake and Sauli outside, my heart beating fast. Drake squeezed my fingers trying to easy my nerves. It didn't help at all.

The proceedings for the reaping were the same every year. They brought us to a sort of a courtyard, and then set up for the calling of tributes. I didn't eat anything before we left, because I knew I wouldn't be able to keep anything down today. The mayor began talking. I didn't pay much attention, I never did. The reaping itself consisted of the mayor talking, the District representative drawing slips of paper from the large reaping bowl, past winners addressing their experiences and how they wanted to help the new tributes, and a whole load of other bullshit.

I was a little surprised however when I heard… "This year in the twenty-fifth Hunger Games, there will be two males from this District due to the lack of females." I froze before muttering to Drake in a low whisper so that only he could only hear. "This is madness."

Drake nodded, his eyes transfixed as they drew the first name. The mayor cleared his throat paused, and read the ticket to himself before swallowing, then reading it aloud. "Bradley Bell." The mayor called out, and my face went devoid of any emotion. Nothing. I couldn't speak, my fingers dropped limp at my side from being in Drake's hand. I had forgotten how to speak as I looked up to the stage, unable to even move. "Bradley Bell, if you would please join us…" I gave Drake a horrified look, fear etched onto my features. My birthday, my nineteenth birthday was in three months and I would be dead before it even came.

I tried not to let any emotion escape from my features, and I saw Lapsis cling to my father. She knew. She knew what was going to happen, she knew. Lapsis looked saddened, she wanted to cry. I know she did. I watched my father touched his fingers to his lips for me. A symbol towards the tributes that meant respect towards them. I parted from Drake and Sauli, seeing the look in their eyes, and I tried so hard not to break. I couldn't break. Stay strong for District Six, I told myself. _S__tay strong._

The mayor had me stand onstage by the Peacekeepers, overlooking the hundreds of children that could have been picked for these horrid games. These monstrous events. I hated the Capitol with more passion than anyone knew. _What would become of me and Drake? What would happen to us?_ I swallowed trying not to shake, and listened for the next name, the tribute that would be going me. I almost died at the name called.

"Sauli LaBry."

There was chaos after that. I could hear Drake screaming. I could hear him shouting. "No! No! No!" Drake was trying to run after his brother, the Peacekeepers holding him back. He was thrashing as his brother began to walk up the steps to join me as the other tribute. I could see Drake's tears falling as this happened, thrashing against the Peacekeeper. "I volunteer, I _volunteer_ as tribute!" He screamed out, Sauli froze in his tracks. In fact, everyone froze.

"I volunteer." It was choked, and painful to my ears as he said it.

Sauli was about to object to protect his younger brother but the mayor accepted it and let him volunteer, let him take his place. As Drake passed Sauli, his brother muttered something to him. I couldn't hear from where I was and my throat felt tight. I could see the tear marks on Drake's face as he joined me in his brother's place. my fingers laced with his own as I took his hand.

"District Six, these are your tributes. Drake LaBry and Bradley Bell." The mayor said.

I didn't have any words to say as they told us where to go tomorrow morning, giving us today to say goodbye. Tomorrow we would depart for the Capitol. As the groups of people parted, I muttered to Drake. "I love you baby. No matter what happens. I love you. May the odds be in your favor." I kissed him on the lips softly.

_May the odds be in our favor indeed, how we were going to need it…_


	3. This Is The Time Of Your Life

**Chapter Three: This Is The Time Of Your Life, But You Just Can't Tell  
Adam's POV**

District One. The land of luxury. Full of bustling people in bright and vibrant clothing, shining hover cars of all models and colors, beautiful buildings that soared up into the air beyond what should be possible. A city of prosperity and wealth, with money pouring out of open windows like warm air, ponds of gold, fields of impossible green, where even those on the poorer half of the city can afford to bathe in expensive soaps, wear top fashions and dye their skin a new tone every three weeks. A civilization in its own right and reason, what with all of its glitz and glamour.

My name is Adam. I lived in District One. I was the son of an esteemed banker and a lawyer, living in a three story steel and glass mansion in the upper hills of the district. Our property was approximately ten square acres with a massive side building for my mother's at-home office and mine and my brother's personal spaces. I had a younger brother who was studying to be a philanthropist and professional pessimist, and a hybrid dog who could understand my every word and convey emotion through gestures he made with his body. I was eighteen years old and had trained for the last ten to be the ultimate tribute for the Hunger Games.

I hated my life.

I hated District One. I hated the city, I hated the people. I hated my house, I hated my training. I hated my friends, I hated their lifestyles. The shining cars, the beautiful buildings, the prosperity, the wealth, the expensive soaps and dyes, the glitter, the glamour, the Hunger Games, the reaping, the loss of innocent people. I hated every aspect of it. It was childish, pointless, brainless, and utterly cruel. It was taking twelve year olds from their mothers and fathers, older brothers and sisters from their siblings, loved ones from their significant others. It was rolling in shredded gold and training to become a killer. A ruthless machine designed with only two thoughts. Kill everyone. Win everything.

To some people, the Hunger Games were complete entertainment. To others, it was a death sentence, a punishment. Lose your life or lose someone you know. Always a catch, a compromise, a decision, a futile prayer. But what sickened me the most were the people who volunteered for their place in the Games. The people who wanted to participate in a blood bath for complete and total glory. The people who would brutally slaughter innocent strangers and act as if murder was second nature, a fucking hobby. Those were the people who were the worst. You would grow up knowing them, loving them, being their friend until you saw them on that screen, splattered with blood and grinning like it was Christmas.

Sometimes it wasn't even the people who participated, but those who didn't. The heartless bastards who would watch the sons and daughters of their neighbors die with their pained faces plastered on hundreds of thousands of screens, and they wouldn't even bat an eye. Many of them were thrilled by the deaths and seemed to care little about who was dying. Truly, it was a most horrendous sight to behold. And though it was a rarity, even in District One, there were some parents who cared little for the deaths of their own children. They felt that their children had been a disappointment, having trained their whole lives to merely die.

Naturally, though, I couldn't voice these opinions of mine aloud. The Capitol—which was almost a mere pleasant walk from District One—had made it abundantly clear that they were always watching, always observing the livelihoods of the districts to ensure that everything was operating smoothly. In truth, they were spying. Maintaining their order through any means necessary, and if they caught wind of someone giving lip or potentially giving hint to the start of a revolution, well… that word was silenced. Permanently.

I could not openly oppose the Capitol or the Hunger Games, yet it was still extremely difficult for me to even pretend that I enjoyed any aspect of my life and my position. I couldn't enjoy it. And such difficulties left me the butt of jokes and torment growing up because I was considered "soft" and an "improper tribute" for my lack of desire to be so ruthless. So vile. Pardon me for having a fucking heart.

For six years I'd successfully scraped by each reaping, avoiding the dread of having my name called. For six years I'd watched school mates, training companions, sparring partners, friends, neighbors, rivals and complete strangers stand upon the stage like some victorious individual. For six years I'd watched them win and lose, survive and die. For six years I'd watched the madness of the Hunger Games toll on like it would never stop. Like the bloodshed would never end. Because, in truth, it didn't. It never would.

And, just like every year, the Hunger Games came. Everyone was gathered into the center of District One, massive screens surrounding the plaza to display the faces of those who could be chosen and those who were merely observing. There were streamers and balloons, as if the reaping was a celebration, a time of happiness for the Districts. Maybe here, in District One, it could be a celebration. But I'd seen the monitors in past years. I'd seen the reactions from other districts. There was no celebratory mood. There was pain and devastation and relief, relief that it was someone else.

Like every year, I stood out in with the group of boys my age. I was dressed in a formal white shirt and black vest with matching black slacks and shoes. Cobalt blue cufflinks and a matching slim tie, the colors complimenting my eyes—or, so my mother had said. I paid little notice to it. My hair was done up around my face, my bangs sweeping over my eyes a little. I looked like a dressed pig ready for roasting.

I was surrounded by people I knew but did not really care for, only half listening as our district mayor rambled on about how important the Hunger Games were, how crucial it was to be reminded of the revolt District Thirteen led so many years ago, and how dire our situation would be should we ever decide to follow their footsteps. I sympathized with the lost District Thirteen. They weren't taking anymore of the bullshit and were obliterated for it.

I glanced up at the screen to see a blown up image of my mayor, his pudgy cheeks and beady eyes staring out at us as he spewed on and on about how wonderful of a district we were, how important we all were, how he prayed for the odds to be in our favor. Then, our district representative came onto the stage in his gaudy attire and lime green skin with _complimentary _orange makeup. Truly, it looked like a four year old had thrown up on him.

"Due to some complications in other Districts, every tribute for this year's Hunger Games shall be male. Don't worry girls, you will get your chance," he winked to the crowd as a good thousand or so girls groaned and complained. A good portion of the men who were eligible to participate were pretty scary when it came to the Games, but the women were the most frightening.

"For our first male tribute, we have…" I couldn't even be bothered to remember our district representative's name. I felt there was no reason to. "Mr. David Bromstad!" There was a surplus of cheers and hollers as David made his way to the stage. He was a tall, well built sort of fellow. Thin but toned with lean muscle and rich mocha colored skin. He had short cropped hair and a smile that melted the hearts of every individual, male and female. A fine competitor. He didn't seem overtly monstrous or excited for a blood bath. If anything… he seemed normal.

David stood on the platform with all of the cameras focused in on his face, letting the monitors capture his radiant smile for all of District One to see. The men were cheering. The women were swooning. The would-be viewers were a sea of mixed emotions, and I sighed softly. Seven times out of ten a tribute from District One would win. For the past five years, tributes from my district had won. I wondered if David would hold onto luck or if this would be one of three to fail.

"And now, ladies and gentlemen, for your second male tribute…" I'd been lucky for six years, and this would be my last reaping waiting in the potential-tributes section. I watched his hand disappear into the massive fish bowl that was practically overflowing with names. I'd been lucky, my name was only in there a handful of times. I hadn't done anything special or extra to warrant extra slips for my name, so why was my heart in my throat like I was about to choke and die—

"Mr. Adam Lambert!" People cheered. I know they cheered because I could see their faces as they all whipped around to look at me. The cameras turned and focused on me, and my shocked, ash-white face was plastered on the screens for everyone to see just how miserable I looked. District One tributes were supposed to be excited, pumped, overjoyed, whatever the fuck it was to show joy at the prospect of being hauled into a death sentence. But not me. I looked up at the screens, staring at my own face. My pale lips, my emotionless face, my haunted eyes…

I looked as if someone had just ripped out my stomach and my spine at the same time.

Hands grabbed hold of me, hauling me forward towards the platform. People were talking, shouting, cheering, wishing me luck and telling me to kick ass and rip tits out there… But I couldn't hear any of it. Not a word. Not a sound. Only the dull roar and the thumping of my own heart pressing to my forehead as I made my way onto the platform to stand by David. In the crowd I somehow managed to find my little brother, Neil. His face mirrored mine. He was scared for me.

I stared at the floor of the platform, David standing close beside me as the district representative continued to ramble on about the Hunger Games. Our district winners from past years came, talking about their experiences and what they intended to do to help us in our trials. Still, none of it reached my ears. Eventually, I raised my head a little to stare out at the sea of faces from District One. Six years I'd avoided the dread of hearing my name called for the reaping. Six years I'd avoided being watched by all of Panem while slaughtering innocent strangers.

My luck had run out at last. It was only a matter of time, truly. When I'd turned fifteen I didn't expect my fortune to last forever. When I was sixteen I held slim hopes. When I turned seventeen I thought I had a shot. Now, how dim of me to believe that I could make it my entire life without having to suffer like this. That I could watch friends and strangers kill each other and know that I never had to do that. That I never had to be a murderer in front of millions of people…

"May the odds be ever in your favor…"

Fuck odds. I needed a miracle.


	4. Standing At the Gates of Hell

**Chapter Four: Standing At the Gates of Hell****  
****Drake's POV**

On the train that was taking us to the Capitol, I found it almost impossible to actually think about my brother or any of the Reaping, for that matter. I was sure Sauli was probably devastated that I took his place, that he would probably end up watching some savage career rip my throat out or gut me like a fish and that I completely threw out everything he'd ever done for me by going into the Games.

I didn't regret my decision.

However, as I stated, I couldn't actually let myself think about home, so I decided to sit down with Brad and watch the Reapings from the other districts. To my complete and utter surprise, the tributes from District One did not volunteer and they both seemed rather… normal. In fact, the black haired one seemed to be kind of horrified by the fact that his name was pulled from the giant fish bowl container. The brunette didn't seem too thrilled either and I'd never really seen District One tributes react that way before. Usually District One tributes were eager to get in the arena and show off all of their training but these two seemed rather out of place. Even their names were strange for District One. It wasn't Glimmer or Sparkle or Diamond or all of the ridiculous names those people came up with, just Adam and David.

The tributes from District Two were classic careers and both of them disgusted me and the same could be said for the District Three and Four tributes since they were usually classified as Careers as well. The rest of the districts just seemed… Well, like my district. We didn't like it, but what could we do? Rebel and be slaughtered? Funny, since that was happening to Brad and I anyway.

Several thoughts of committing suicide with Brad had crossed my minds. It wasn't likely that either of us would win. After all, we were small and skinny. One of those Careers could probably snap me over their knee. Of course Brad and I wouldn't be fighting one another. We would stay together and protect one another. Maybe we could just eat some poisonous berries, lie down with one another and die in each other's arms. If there were gods, perhaps they would be merciful enough to allow us to remain together in the afterlife. Well, assuming that there was, indeed, an afterlife.

I wanted to discuss this with Brad, perhaps we could make some sort of agreement or something, but I was afraid to mention it to him. Brad might have been small but he had a lot of fight packed into him. Knowing Bradley, he was already plotting some way to get us both out of the arena even though only one could be the winner. Suggesting giving up could be potentially disastrous, so, for the time being, I kept my mouth shut. He seemed deep in thought, anyway. Like I said, he was probably plotting a way to save my life and his.

Eventually Brad and I just went to sleep. Our Capitol representative tried to interact with us but I couldn't look at his pink skin and take him seriously. The people who resided in the Capitol were very low on my list. They all dressed ridiculously and went to extreme extents to tint their skin, tattoo places that shouldn't be tattooed and genetically alter themselves with surgery because they had the money to do it. The Capitol's residents didn't have to give up child for tribute, they simply watched the district tributes fight to the death and they enjoyed it. They believed it was pure entertainment and that made me sick. Didn't they realize that they were watching children murder one another?

Not only were these people grotesque looking, but also their personalities were just too much to handle. They were chipper and they were annoying. Our representative, Aksel, never stopped talking and since his skin was pink, his cheekbones were surgically altered to angle out into sharp enough points to hurt someone and on top of the pink skin was a tattoo that started on his face and seemed to wrap around his entire body, it was hard to actually listen to what he was saying. He kept mentioning how lucky we were to have this honor but I thought that was a bunch of bullshit. We were pigs being sent in for the slaughter and eventually it was just easier for Brad and I to go to bed so we could be alone and get away from everything else, even if just for a night.

Needless to say, Brad and I spent most of the night without our clothes on. Us being intimate right before the Games probably wasn't very "ethical" but we both had to come to terms with the fact that we might be dead in a week's time and we needed to make the most of the time we were still guaranteed together.

The train ride took about a day, which wasn't too shocking for us since we lived in the district that provided transportation but I was sure for the other tributes, ones who lived further out, that the train ride was quite shocking. Brad and I literally just finished getting cleaned up and dressed when the train pulled up to the train station in the city that the rest of the world knew as the Capitol. I had to wonder if rumors would spread about us or not, but I didn't really have much time to think about it.

Aksel rushed us off to the train. He didn't seem to manage time very well, which was odd because the other district representatives from the Capitol seemed extremely strict about keeping to a very tight schedule. Aksel just didn't seem to be with the program. Maybe he had just been doing this for so long (it was impossible to tell how old someone from the Capitol truly was because once they started showing signs of aging, they started with routine surgeries to make them look younger and, more often than not, more grotesque) that he truly just didn't care anymore.

"You both need to get to your stylists! They'll make you look as presentable as possible for your opening ceremonies and interviews. Thankfully you both have pretty faces, so it shouldn't be too hard, but you both need groomed… Desperately," Aksel was saying, ushering us off of the train, through the crowd of citizens that flooded that streets of the Capitol in the anticipation of the opening ceremony for the Games and into what almost appeared to be a backstage area. It was divided into a couple dozen compartments and didn't have much furniture outside the compartments (each was blocked off by a curtain for privacy, I assumed).

Brad and I both showed our distain for the way Aksel spoke to us. He was rude about our needing to be "groomed". First of all, we weren't dogs; we knew how to take care of ourselves. We looked perfectly fine but to someone from the Capitol, we probably looked strange. They didn't understand that they were the freaks. However, within his insult seemed to be something that resembled… interest in us, as if he were praising us for our natural beauty. Disgusting, considering he had been our district representative since the Games were created.

We weren't with him long. In fact, we were split up almost immediately. A girl with teal colored hair and skin so white is was frightening came up to Brad and took him by the arm, tugging him to one of the concealed compartments. "I'm Esmeralda, your stylist. Let's get you read for the crowd." Brad was all about looking fabulous but even he was afraid of the Capitol's version of fabulous. "Don't worry, you and Drake will match and coordinate perfectly," she added before she pushed Brad behind one of the curtains, completely blocking him from my line of sight.

Approximately forty-five seconds went by before a man came up to me and, for a moment, I tried to place him at one of the Reaping ceremonies I'd watched on the train. He was tall, several inches on me at least, and his skin was nicely tanned but there were no strange dyes or changes to it. He had a simple tattoo on his exposed shoulder (his shirt only hung off of one shoulder), which continued down his upper arm. His ears were pierced; two on one side and three on the other and his hair was cropped neatly. It was a simple black color, nothing that wouldn't be considered natural.

"Hello, Drake, I'm Cassidy. I'll be your stylist up until the Games," he said with a bit of a smile on his face. "I will also serve as your stylist _after_ the Games." Was he kidding? What the fuck kind of joke was that? He couldn't possibly believe that I was going to win this, could he? Surely he was being sarcastic. He must have been displeased with getting such a scrawny tribute to work with. Or maybe he really wasn't to encourage me. I didn't know, Hell, I didn't understand any of the Capitol citizens but Cassidy was one giant question mark because he appeared completely… normal. Even people in my district had wilder tattoos and piercing.

"Um, hi… I'm Drake… But I guess you already knew that," I mumbled and I'm sure I sounded like a complete idiot but what really could I say to him without sounding like an idiot? I was just a kid from District Six, after all.

Cassidy smiled a bit more and unlike Esmeralda, Cassidy simply walked with me to the compartment next to the one Brad had disappeared into. "I'm sure you're nervous, but you just need to relax, all right? My prep team will get you ready and then I will come in to do your makeup and wardrobe for the opening ceremonies. You have great bone structure; you could just use a shave and a light layer of cosmetics. Your skin is absolutely perfect. We won't need to do too much really, just remember to smile when you're in front of the crowd." Cassidy was running his fingers through my hair, touching my skin and basically sizing me up. I was sure he was just trying to get a feel for what I would have to have done to me and he would need to command this prep team of his.

His prep team was made up two girls, each with lightly tinted skin and hair and a man who wasn't quite as normal as Cassidy but close and what Cassidy made seem so simple was really me being stripped naked, bathed in some sort of white liquid with an odd odor, waxed, bathed again in some sort of soothing solution and covered in a light layer of makeup to make every inch of my skin the same complexion.

I didn't like it.

These people were chipper and excitable. They were all asking me question after question, occasionally commenting on how nice looking I was or how I would be so beautiful if Cassidy would allow them to embed a few jewels along my cheekbone. Apparently Cassidy told them not to alter me in any permanent way, which had been known to happen on occasion amongst tributes.

I hated that these people treated me like some sort of dress up doll. They cut my hair without my permission, they waxed me of every last hair and I felt completely bare. Being naked was something I could deal with but this? This was just a bit too much. The prep team also man handled me in ways I didn't let anyone but Brad do. I knew that these people weren't trying to be sexual but their touching made me uncomfortable anyway. I don't think I was being too unfair, considering I didn't know any of these people and they were touching my thighs, ass and dick.

Once the prep team was finished with what they called "taking me to beauty basic one", I was left alone in nothing but a silk robe waiting for Cassidy to return for my outfit, makeup and hairstyle. I could only pray that I wouldn't look completely ridiculous and/or go out in front of the entire country naked. That had been known to happen too.

"I hope my prep team wasn't too rough on you," Cassidy said as he stepped back into the compartment. "I know they can be very… crowding and intimidating but they're good people at heart." Folded over his arm was a deep gray-almost-black garment but it was folded and I couldn't actually tell what it was. "It looks like you don't need any makeup, really. Your skin is flawless and I want the crowd to see you for you, not a bunch of flashy makeup. So we're going to get you dressed and style your hair and you'll be ready for the crowd."

Without a second thought in the world, like it was no big deal, Cassidy tugged my robe off, revealing my completely bare form to him. It obviously wasn't a big deal to him but it was to me. I was bashful and it showed on my face but I needed to just get used to being naked with my stylist. It was going to happen all the time, especially if by some miracle I made it out of these Games.

Thankfully Cassidy had me dressed in a matter of minutes and he was running his fingers through my freshly cut hair. "I'm going to sound extremely stupid but I've never… I've never been in front of a crowd or anything before. What do I do? How do I act?"

"Do you care?" Cassidy questioned.

"Well, I don't care about those people but I can't go out there looking like a complete moron. I have to hope that I'll get some sort of sponsors…" What was the point in lying to him? I hated the Capitol and all it stood for.

"Drake, just go out there and smile. Seem appealing because you already look the part. People already love you for what you did for your brother; just let your real personality show. If you're honest and you smile, they're going to love you even more, whether you want them to or not. You'll have sponsors coming out your ears, I'm sure of it." He smiled at me again. "I know you can do this. I've seen a lot of good things from you, Drake."


	5. This Is The Moment Of Truth

**Chapter Five: This Is The Moment Of Truth And The Moment To Lie, The Moment To Live Or The Moment To Die****  
****Brad's POV**

I hated every second the stylists were touching my skin. I didn't like Esmeralda for sure. I hated the way their makeup itched and how heavy it felt on my skin. When they had finished putting these layers of makeup on me, I felt like another person, entirely. I hated it. Esmeralda had implanted small gems in a pattern across the top of my left hand. It almost looked like vines. I had protested deeply but I wasn't given the choice of not having it done; the gems were set into the skin of my left hand for good. They were colored a faint white, sometimes glittering green in a certain light. When the light hit them, they were dazzling, waving off the top of my left hand and wrapped around to my wrist looking like ivy growing in my skin.

On a plus side, they could be hidden with a glove. One of the stylist's, I remembered, Draven, smiled quite a bit when he put the stones into my hand. He was a male, maybe a few years older than me, I think. Draven had deep blue locks that fell over one side of his face—I assumed it was from their dyes—and piercing blue eyes that flickered to green in the right light. He was a bit more normal compared to Esmeralda. He was very pale though, almost deathly pale. You could see a similar vine like work weaving together on his bare shoulders forming complex pattern; it was stunning on him. His accent was thick with something foreign; something I didn't even think existed in the Capitol. "Gorgeous, at leazt you were in better shape than the others…" Draven said, doing the finishing touches on me.

Draven helped dressed me. It was rather simple, I was surprised. Well it seemed simple. Draven told me, the other designer, Cassidy, the one Drake had gone with, created the outfits. The shirt that was pulled over my skinny frame was a tank top. The tank top itself was white, it left a bit of my skin from my stomach exposed. I was kind of glad now I was built like a girl, I could show off my frame like this, as it was one thing I loved to do. The sides of the tank where my arms went through fanned out along my sides, the white cloth reaching close to my thighs. The jeans I wore were tight and after shaving everything bare it felt weird to be wearing jeans like this. The jeans were black and had this bone like pattern going up the sides on both legs, almost like a skeletal frame. I was given a pair of black knee high boots, they were very comfortable to walk on, a huge relief from the flats I grew up walking in or walking barefoot all the time.

Esmeralda released a breath, gushing over how I looked. "Cassidy always knew how to play up the fashion, they are simply going to eat you alive when they see you… gorgeous little thing you are…" She gushed, grinning wide at how I looked. I was beckoned out of the room, joined by Cassidy—I assumed that's who the male was by Drake talking quietly to him—and Drake, who was dressed like me, thought where my clothes were white, his were black and vice versa. He looked stunning.

However there was someone beside them that I didn't recognize right away. It took me a few minutes to process who exactly was beside them. I didn't get a chance to inquire much though, because the person answered for me. He looked to be about twenty-three or so, he had dark hazel eyes that seemed heavy with a type of pain he hated, and he was dressed in black from head to toe, looking much like Drake. His raven hair fell to his shoulders, hiding one of his eyes. "I'm Gerard, your mentor." He said gently, his voice soft, his posture awkward and withdrawn.

Then it clicked. He was the tribute from six years ago that had to murder his own brother, Michael Way, in the Hunger Games. I was horrified that year. There had been visible tears on his face when he stabbed his brother through the heart. I remembered that he'd draped his cross over his brother's dead body, sobbing even when the Games ended for him. He had started drinking after that and gone downhill from there. Honestly I couldn't blame him, I mean how else someone would deal with the fact they had killed their own brother before their eyes. I shuddered at the mere thought.

Gerard wasn't drunk, at least not right now. "Right now, all you need to do, is look pretty answer their questions.." Gerard's tone was flat, not really wanting to talk; it was evident in his voice.

The opening ceremonies passed by rather quickly, calling each of the Districts to the center stage, showing them off. This year it seemed to be different. They did the interviews during the opening ceremony, changing it up to learn more about the tributes than normal. I could see Cassidy watching us from the stage as Drake was interviewed. He was being open and a bit honest, but the answers were short and brief.

When they called me up, I decided to be a little playful in my movements, swaying my hips, the stones set on my left hand glittering in the light. "So Bradley, the Capitol must be such a change from District Six, what has impressed you the most?" The person asked me. I almost rolled my eyes at the cameras.

"Clothes," I murmured, and I could see Drake roll his eyes. The person, I think Jersey was his name, with light lavender locks and deep green eyes laughed as I answered.

"Clothes, how cute, we have a little fashion queen." He let out another little giggle, his green eyes glinting. "So how close are you to Drake?"

A nervous laugh escaped my lips at that question. I'd found a sudden interest in the gems embedded into my skin. "Nothing of major importance." I said rather dryly back.

Jersey raised an eyebrow. "That's not like it seems like, kid. No one is going to judge you if you're lovers here." Jersey said with a bit of a smug smirk, and I felt as if I wanted to slap him across the face.

"I said it doesn't matter." I snapped back, feeling far sassier than normal, and I was almost relieved when the buzzer went off to dismiss me.

~

I was awake by dawn the next morning, drenched in sweat as a cry fell off my lips into my quiet room. I was alone, shaking and trembling, unable to speak. After I'd gotten up and dressed, I barely touched the food I was given. I changed back into the clothes from my interviews after attempting to eat. I felt far more comfortable in these clothes than in anything else that was here.

Later, when the sun began to come out that, Drake and I headed to the training tours, his fingers lacing with mine. He tried to ease my nerves with this gentle touch. He knew I had bad enough eating habits and this place, our entire situation, wasn't helping. And, sure, we had unlimited food and could eat whenever we desired, however much we desired. That didn't matter though.

The training center was a large gym area with mats on the floor, fake dummies, ropes, punching bags, and archery targets, almost anything. There was a specialist helping to train us for survival here. Everyone took a number of tests to see what our strong points were. I kissed the back of Drake's hand before parting with him. I knew his strong point was working with knives: fighting with them, throwing them, using them in tight and desperate situations. I'd seen him do it, once or twice back home, never once missing his target.

I knelt beside a bow and arrow, strumming the bow. It was something my father once had to do in District Thirteen to hunt sometimes. He taught me a little of that as well, but I never used the skill. My candle making took up most of my time, and because of that I know a number of herbs that could be used for medicinal purposes as well. I begin to string my bow up, half wary because of the feel of it and the size of it compared to me. I lined the arrow up, pulling back on the string. It felt like home, reminding me of my father and of better times.

There was a dull thunk when the arrow lodges in a target in the dead center of it, making a few of the tributes look over at me. Just because I am a tiny bitch doesn't mean I don't know how to do things. As I went to strum another arrow, I accidentally elbowed someone in the ribs, gaining an angry curse from another voice. The arrow hit way off the center this time, and I set the bow down glaring back at the person I hit. "Watch where you're going." My voice was lethal and low despite sounding like a chick.

"More like watch what you're doing." The male answered back. He was a good sized bitch, dark hair, blue eyes, and dressed decently. I rolled my eyes at him.

"You aren't my mother sweetheart." I said, kicking him in the shin, knocking him back while giving him a dirty look.

He let out a yelp before punching me in the shoulder, and as I went to hit him back, Drake stopped me. "He isn't worth it Brad, you'll get your chance later." Drake said to me. I turned to the dark hair tribute and stuck my tongue out at him. Yeah, I'd better get to.


	6. By The Rules, I Play

**Chapter Six: By The Rules, I Play, Let Nature Have Its Way  
Adam's POV**

They gave me hair extensions and put blue dye in my bangs. They dressed me in a sapphire suit that had frost coming off of it in waves. They waxed me bare, though were gracious enough to leave hair where it was _vital_, not necessary, but _vital_, plucked my eyebrows to chiseled perfection, painted my nails this permanent black, and forced me into the tightest, coldest excuse for clothing. It was dreadful.

David suffered just the same. They left his hair alone, those frosted the tips of his hair blue and gave him a faux-hawk. He wore the same suit I did, and when we stepped onto our self-operating chariot for the presentation of tributes, he groaned about how naked he felt beneath the clothes without any body hair. I gave him a sympathetic look before we were pulled out to be gawked at by all.

The interviews were torturous. The questions were sappy and personal and the crowd was hideous. Painted faces, dyed skins, God-awful tattoos and clothing, yet _I_ was the one being stared at. _I _was the one whom everyone was watching, waiting, listening for something exciting about my life as a tribute from District One. Did I like the Games? How did I feel about the Capitol? What did I think of my tribute partner, David? Did I have a plan for the Games? Did I have this, did I have that, what did I think about this, what was my opinion on that? Endless streams of questions being vomited onto my lap and then shoved into my face. I could barely keep up with them.

Somehow, I managed to impress. The crowds of eager and haunting faces were smiling and cheering when I made my exit to let David talk about his own experience thus far and what he thought about me. After our interview was over, we were allowed to go back to our temporary home, on the first floor of the tribute tower. There, David and I watched the other interviews as they happened. Most of them were pretty cookie-cutter in terms of the questions and their respective answers.

The tributes from Two through Four were all amped up and excited. Hard jaw lines and dark eyes, men trained to kill without a second thought. The tributes from Five were almost the same, but were gracious enough to answer less about the brutality they wanted to commit and more about what they felt about the Capitol and the Games as a whole. Beyond that, most of the other tributes were boring, and the closer each duo got to being from Twelve, the more timid and weak they appeared. Unlike the tributes from the first five or six districts, these twelve people felt that this entire process was a death sentence.

If only they knew I felt the same.

There was one duo that stood out to me—two lanky boys from District Six, Bradley Bell and Drake LaBry. During the train ride to the Capitol, I'd watched the Reapings from other Districts, and these two had stuck out even then. In other districts, once your name was called, you didn't fight it. You merely accepted your fate, either with a smile of victory or a look of defeat and terror. But not Six. I remembered Bradley had gone up to the Reaping platform devoid of emotion, as if he'd drawn into himself. And Drake… Drake, initially, wasn't the second tribute. His brother had been, and Drake volunteered in his place.

I never really saw such courage before. Usually the lower numbered districts would all be excited to go into the Games and the higher numbered districts would try not to cry. No one in my lifetime had come out of the crowd, volunteering to take someone else's place in the Games, not even siblings or lovers. I'd never seen anyone take someone else's place simply out of love. Until that completely ordinary boy took his brother's place…

I never knew that kind of love existed and it fascinated me.

~

The day after the opening ceremonies and interviews, we were all sent to training that would last for three days. This was basically a process that I had been living with for the entirety of my life. These three days were set aside so the tributes could learn different survival and combat skills. Technically none of the tributes were supposed to be trained before this brief training session but in my district, as well as in Two and Four, we were trained from the moment we were old enough to understand what training was and probably even before that, we were just too young to remember.

David and myself had such an advantage over most of the other tributes, but neither of us wanted that advantage. Like most of the tributes, I believed this was a death sentence and since I watched the Reapings from the other districts, I believed that I didn't deserve to win… That boy from District Six, the one who took his brother's place in the Games, he deserved to win. It was true, I had a younger brother at home, who I loved very much, but the boy who took his brother's place needed to go back to that brother. He needed to win because he possessed a love that most of the world was no longer capable of.

Throughout training, I found most of the stations rather boring. I was taught how to handle a knife, a sword, a trident, an axe, a spear and even more unconventional weapons such as a mallet and a hammer as such a young age through my district, most people probably assumed that I had no problem being here. Pathetic and sick, the lot of them.

Most of the other "career" tributes spent their time in the combat booths set up, showing off their skills, trying to impress one another and scare the rest of the weaker tributes. I found this completely unnecessary. Why destroy ever ounce of hope that these smaller boys had? We all had families to return to and these careers were actually making a game out of scaring the shit out of their smaller opponents.

However all of the careers that were focusing on showing off were making a huge and fatal error. Most of the training that we all went through revolved around fighting; learning to wield whatever possible weapons could be in the Cornucopia. There was very little about how to adapt to whatever environment they might throw us in. Over my years, I'd seen everything from tropical rainforests, to deserts, to barren ice fields (the winner only won because they were able to not freeze longer than everyone else), to nothing but a tiny island surrounded by miles and miles of oceans. No matter how much you knew about combat, you couldn't be prepared for survival if you didn't pay attention to some of the less exciting booths.

All of the careers were so worried about looking cool, that they were paying attention to the less exciting—but possibly more important—stations that revolved around adapting to your environment, surviving harsh conditions that normally you would not have to endure, hunting and camouflage. All right, perhaps the last two were not so important to careers. Generally they all ganged up together to take out the rest of the tributes and then battled the rest out among themselves. This means that they have the power to take possession of almost everything in the Cornucopia (the center piece of the battlefield which holds everything a tribute could need to survive). Because the careers could gain control of most of the resources the Capitol provided, they had the food that they needed to live for weeks upon weeks and weapons out the wazoo.

That meant nothing if they couldn't adapt to whatever type of arena we were dropped in.

Needless to say, I didn't bring this up to any of them and I spent none of my time at the combat stations. I knew how to fight and I wasn't interested in showing off. It was better to keep what you could do a secret from the rest of the tributes so they would underestimate you. I also had no intentions of joining the career pack. I wouldn't agree to march around, murdering the other tributes simply because it was fun. That sickened me, so I would be on my own. I would kill if it became necessary to protect my own life, but hopefully I could stay out of most of the action. Becoming a killer in front of the entire world did not sound appealing.

When David sat down at a station teaching us which roots, berries and plants were edible and which would kill you on the spot, I knew that he had the same thinking process that I did. We were probably the worst District One tributes in the history of Panem because we were so far away from what a career trained from birth (basically) should be.

Throughout training, we ignored the other careers. They were all just so obnoxious. How many times could they twirl a spear and impale a dummy with an oversized sword? Come on; give it a rest, its not that impressive once you've done it thirty-five times. I found it hard to even understand how they found everything that didn't have to do with combat to be pointless. Combat was truly only a small part of the Games. Most of what the Games consisted of was surviving the arena.

Instead, I found myself watching some of the other districts. I was rather impressed by some of them. The boy who took his brother's spot, for example, was amazing at throwing knives. He looked like he had been doing it for years but I was sure he'd never touched a knife for anything but cooking before in his life. His fellow district member seemed rather gifted in archery and both of those things I happened to be horrible at. If it came to that, I would probably lose.

Some of the younger children just seemed lost. The youngest, I believed, was thirteen and I felt horrible for him. He would probably never have the chance to actually live and the people in the Capitol actually believed it was all right to condemn an innocent child to death… Anyway, I found myself helping him, and a few others, giving them suggestions on what booths they should focus on. The other careers were giving me some nasty looks, but I really couldn't say I cared. It felt nice to give these tributes some sort of hope, hope that they probably lost the moment their names were called for the Games.

Going back to the suite on the first floor of the training hall, I had to admit, was a relief. Training wasn't exactly hard because no one was in danger and no one was at risk but it was all just preparing to die. Perhaps I just wanted to get into the arena. Even if I did die, the sooner it happened, the sooner I would be over and Hell, if I did die, at least I would be out of this horrible world. Don't get me wrong, I'm not suicidal but… There are definitely worse things than death in our world.

"So… Pretty disgusting of them, huh?" David said while we sat down at our private dining table. Our stylists, personal trainers and district representatives should be joining us but currently we were alone.

"What, the careers showing off and having fun with it? Yeah… Totally fucked up," I replied, sitting next to him. After a day of training, I surprisingly wasn't hungry, but not eating would be a mistake. I needed to take advantage of bulking up as much as I could before we were flown to the arena.

"I think you and I are on the same page… We don't really want to be careers and we don't even want to be here at all…" he started to say and I nodded along. We discussed what would happen when we got into the arena. We agreed to stay together for as long as we could. It would certainly be interesting for the two tributes from One team up but keep their distance from the other careers. We weren't very traditional, that was for sure and we had close enough morals that we felt good about teaming up.

Eventually we are starting talking about the other tributes. "That boy from Six…" I started to say. I couldn't even remember his name (I was so cold and exposed in my "costume", that I wasn't paying much attention during the interviews and I was half asleep during the recaps of the Reapings).

"Amazing what he did for his brother," David said before I could even continue my thought. "I saw you watching him earlier today and I ended up watching him for a little while too. I've never known anyone to be so selfless, even in other districts. In One, everyone's so bloodthirsty and greedy underneath their glamour. In other districts, they don't have much but one another, but I still didn't think that someone could love so much…"

"I hope he wins…" I say even though having him as a winner would mean that within a few weeks' time, I would be dead.

David chuckled softly and looked over at me. "Don't tell anyone you said that because they'll eat you alive and don't tell anyone I said this, but I hope he wins too," he told me. Where was this boy for my entire childhood and why they fuck weren't we friends? I'd never met anyone who was so much like me before... It really was a shame that we were just now getting to know one another. We wouldn't have much time for a friendship.

"Shame that two people can't win. I think there's something more than they're admitting between him and the other boy he came with," I said. I wasn't positive, but the way they looked at one another… The way they wouldn't talk about their relationship… It was so easy to see that there was something there.

"I know… It's a tragedy, really. Then again, this entire fucking thing is."

"I could not agree more," I replied with a sigh.


End file.
